


new year’s eve

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Medication, Mentions of alcohol, Mentions of sexual activity, New Year’s Eve, One Night Stands, Post-Squip, Slight trigger warning, Songfic, This turned out a lot angstier than anticipated, only because there’s undertones of stuff, slight injury, slight language, sorry about this, they really just need to talk without being drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: it’s a happy new yeari’m making guacamoleyou couldn’t even pick up the fucking phone and call me~~~It was 11:52 on New Year’s Eve, and Jeremy Heere was making guacamole and mourning his existence.





	new year’s eve

It was 11:52 on New Year’s Eve, and Jeremy Heere was making guacamole and mourning his existence. It was supposed to be a time where he kept his friends close, but here he was, making avocado dip while everyone else was at Jake’s house, partying. He glanced at his phone and sighed. No buzzing, no calls. Not for ages. He couldn’t even pick up the fucking phone and call Jeremy. So here Jeremy was, slicing tomatoes on the day he was supposed to be partying like the rest of the world. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He just couldn’t have a repeat of last year. 

 

Last year had been so stupid. There had been another party at Jake’s. The entire SQUIP squad was there, most of them drunk off their asses. Even the ones that didn’t drink were puking. There was some talk of bad shrimp, but that may have been a rumour. Jeremy honestly didn’t know, or care.

 

He could remember that night vividly. He didn’t like anything at first- he didn’t like his tee shirt (who wears a graphic tee with Pacman on it as their first outfit in the new year?), or his blue jeans (why are the only jeans that fit him well skinny jeans?). He also didn’t like his pessimistic attitude, making him think this was going to turn out terribly. It was going to be a party, not the end of the world. 

 

Jeremy shut his eyes, hand gripping the knife tightly. He could remember it so well. He didn’t know how it had happened- it was probably because of the champagne, the fact that he was a total lightweight, and that he got extremely flirty with the slightest bit of alcohol. How he made it up the stairs of his apartment, but he could remember climbing into bed with him, the feeling of his shirt coming up over his head, the slightly fuzzy feeling in his brain from the champagne bubbling through his system. 

 

The knife slipped and cut Jeremy’s finger and he winced. He checked the clock- 11:56- and sighed, going into his bathroom and grabbing a bandaid from the cabinet to staunch the blood, looking at the pills in it. Another new year, another year on medication. He shut the cabinet with a tiny click and a sigh. He didn’t know how he made it out alive this year, honestly. He had told himself that night, ages ago, that this was the year things would change, but here he was, stuck with all the bad habits he had found. Still hanging around, for some reason or another.

 

He leaned against the counter, grabbing a bag of tortilla chips and the bowl of guacamole, staring dejectedly at the dip inside it. He didn’t even know why he’d made it, honestly. Probably because he’d missed dinner. 

 

Jeremy looked down at himself. Another new year where he’d start with possibly the dorkiest outfit ever. Star Wars pajama pants and an Apocalypse of the Damned t-shirt- but he guessed it wasn’t important, not this time. There was no party, just him and his thoughts and his guacamole. And  _ his _ song recordings in the background, faintly playing from the radio. Jeremy hated to admit he liked the four-track album, listening to the other boy’s voice. 

 

Last year the album had just been a half-finished idea. Now that that was done, so was their friendship. “Friends forever. Ha.” Jeremy muttered, stabbing a tortilla chip into the guacamole. He had thought that was true, at the time. 

 

11:57. He remembered the feeling of his lips, kissing him at midnight, all because he looked lonely in the corner. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as the tortilla chip broke, leaving shards in it. 

 

Jeremy’s foot tapped on the ground and he set the bowl aside. He pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his fridge- he was never a big drinker, but he needed this right now. He gave a pitiful toast to himself- “Here’s to the circumstances always changing and throwing cautions to the wind and ruining friendships.” He said this out loud, with a tone of sarcasm, before downing the alcohol. 

 

The sharp burn of the alcohol countered the burn in his chest— he couldn’t even pretend they were friends anymore. Friends don’t do the things they did, confusing each other with mixed signals and alcohol and midnight kisses. Maybe they’d never been friends. His heart ached as he downed another glass of whiskey. 

 

When would this night ever end? 11:59. He wondered where the other boy was right now— was he sleeping with someone else? Was he home alone? Was he happy without Jeremy?

 

Jeremy wondered if he knew that Jeremy knew he lied, that he could tell when his calls reached the other end. He should just bury this, not even try, board it up like his old house back in New Jersey, where they had kissed in his basement while high and intoxicated. 

 

11:59 and 30 seconds, and there was a knock on the door. Jeremy pulled it open, noticing the boy on his doorstep, seeming not to believe it at first. 11:59 and 43 seconds was wasted on Jeremy staring at the obviously discombobulated man, heart stopped. 

 

Michael had obviously come from a party, spilling some sort of confetti or glitter on the floor. He tried to say something to Jeremy in a slurred tone of voice, but Jeremy couldn’t do this all again. “I don’t like you anymore.” And for once, that was the truth. He shut the door quickly- 11:59 and 52 seconds. He could hear the knocking but didn’t let him in, keeping the door closed. Throughout his apartment building, Jeremy could hear the cheer of midnight. 

 

He leaned against the door for a second, hearing the footsteps fade away. He didn’t allow himself to feel. “Where’s that whiskey at again?” He muttered. It was a happy new year, for once- Jeremy could feel himself changing, and he thought it was for the best. He didn’t need to be held down any longer. He didn’t like him anymore. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this fic was based on New Year’s Eve by Mal Blum, which is a great song, it’s kinda funny, and it’s by a nonbinary person, so representation!!
> 
> I realize this could also be more of a Michael song, but I’m awful at writing Michael so Jeremy instead. 
> 
> Anyways, I love this song, and i kinda like this fic, so I hope you enjoyed, loves!! 
> 
> stay safe, and make sure to make this an actual happy new year
> 
> ~PlayerTwoHeere


End file.
